The Twins Who Lived
by AnwenPrince
Summary: Harry and Anwen Potter are the twins-who-lived. But what happens when the secret is revealed? Follow Anwen as she discovers not only who, but what she is. How she will decide who she wishes to be, even when the fae are always meddling. AU, Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys, I know it's been awhile, and while I had written many chapters for my other story, my flash drive decided to fuck up my files and I just didn't have the heart to rewrite 10 chapters based on my shoddy memory. But this one is new, and we have a new way of saving, so hopefully this one won't get ruined! Have many plans for this one, please don't judge too hard. The thing I love the most about Harry Potter, is the universe of opportunities it opened. As you probably guessed by the title, this story is VERY AU! Though bare with me as it ill be following the books closely until chapter 5.

Also, please note warnings; this may end up a trigger story. Mentions of: abuse, mentioned rape, language, possible? Smut in future (may end up in sequel. Haven't decided yet), self hatred. So please, if such things are a trigger, don't put yourself through that and don't read or read with caution.

I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe (sadly). All of it is owned by J.K. Rowling. Much is quoted from Harry Potter: Sorcerer's Stone: Chapter One

On a very normal looking street, in a very normal neighborhood, lived a fairly. While to many they were the very picture of normal; their perfectly normal clothes, normal haircuts, normal job with a very normal son. But they had a secret. See, Mrs. Petunia Dursley had a very un-normal secret in her family. Her sister Lily was a witch. The little freak had even married the Potter wizard! Then they had started their own freaky family, as if the world didn't have enough freaks in it without the helping. Petunia's husband, Vernon Dursley, knew of course of her freaky sister and her family. But they now had their own son to care for, who would never know of freaks like wizards and witches. In fact! They had decided to not even tell their dear Duddikins that she had a sister. It would be for the best. She didn't want her son wishing to know freaks like them.

But this was to change, and their picture perfect of normal was to come crashing down. As a figure appeared with a sharp crack, lights disappeared one by one until the normal street of Privet Drive was shrouded in darkness. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." Blue eyes twinkled at what appeared to be a tabby cat sitting on the corner. A blink, and it wasn't a cat at all but a severe-looking woman who looked quite ruffled at the man; Albus Dumbledore.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.

"You'd be stiff too if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you should be out celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

The professor sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right." She said impatiently. "You'd think they would be more careful, but no- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had such sense."

"You can't blame the," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being down right careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really **has** gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A **what**?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who **has** gone-"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, **Voldemort**, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too – well – **noble** to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the **rumors** that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain to that whatever "everyone" was saying; she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're **saying**," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are- are- that they're- **dead**."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on her shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's children, Harry and Anwen. But- he couldn't. He couldn't kill those little children. No one knows why, or how, buy they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Anwen Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke- and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded grimly.

"It's- it's **true**?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill two little children? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Anwen survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me **why** you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and Anwen to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean- you**can't** mean the people who live **here**?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got a son- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Anwen Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when they're older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? Those people will never understand them! They'll be famous- legends- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as the Potter Twins day in the future- there will be books written about Harry and Anwen- every child in our world will know their names!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from it all until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, before swallowing and changing it again. "What of their will? I remember what Lily always said about her sister. Are you sure this is what **they** would want?"

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle with a sharp edge. "All of that has been taken care of, and I'm sure Lily would understand that it for the best for them to grow up here, instead of in our world."

Professor McGonagall got a dazed look before seeming to snap out of it and nodding. "Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But how are the children getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his long, purple cloak suddenly as though she thought he might have hidden little Harry and Anwen underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them"

"You think it- **wise**\- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to- what was that?"

A low rumbling sound broke the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed in the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing compared to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. Across his massive chest were two bundles swaddled and slung over his shoulders.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"Only a little, sir- house was almost destroyed, but I got them out right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. Almost couldn't find little Anwen. Was under some wreckage and got a cut on the side of her face there. Been staring at me the whole ride. But little Harry fell asleep as we was flying over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the tow bundles of blankets. In the pink bundle, lay a baby girl, wide awake, but staring silently back with piercing green eyes and a large web of a lightening bolt over the left of her face fading into her jet black hair. Inside the blue blankets, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. A much smaller version of the same cut was barely visible under a tuff of hair matching his sister's.

"Is that where-?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, as he waved his wand over the still bleeding marks on the little girl. It closed, but seemed to refuse to fade and became an angry raised red, The same happened over little Harry. "They'll have those scars forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself over my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well- give them here, Hagrid- we'd better get this over with.

Dumbledore took little Harry as Professor McGonagall took Anwen and they turned toward the Dursley's house.

"Could I- could I say goodbye to them, sir?" ask Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over each child, and gave them what must've been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. While Anwen scrunched her face and stared at him silently, while Harry shifted restlessly. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hiss Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and bury his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it- Lily and James dead- an' poor Harry an' Anwen off ter live with Muggles-"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door before joining him. They lay the children gently on the doorstep, before Dumbledore took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then they went to Hagrid. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light the usually shone in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I'll see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and allowed all the lights back to their proper places and as the street glowed suddenly orange. He could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundles on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry, Anwen," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak and a crack, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky shy, the very last place you would ever expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled inside his blankets as Anwen continued to stare at the night sky, blinking owlishly. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and Harry slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodden and pinched by their cousin Dudley… They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices; "To Harry and Anwen Potter- the twins who lived!"

Thanks guys! Please review! 3


	2. Chapter 2

Alright guys, chapter 2. Hope you enjoy, don't hate too hard!

All warnings are in chapter one, please go back and review if unsure.

I apologize as this chapter will also follow the book very closely. I promise it won't stay this way. Just stay with me until chapter 5. Becomes very AU after chapter 5.

As always, I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe (sadly). All of it is owned by J.K. Rowling. Much is quoted from Harry Potter: Sorcerer's Stone: Chapter two

Also, note: _if it is in italics like this, it is parsel-tongue_

Nearly ten years had passed since that fateful night. Not much had changed in all those years, except new pictures on the mantle above the fireplace of a large boy growing up. There was no sign of the twins on any surface. No pictures, no colorful drawings on the fridge signed by them. In fact, it seemed to many as if they didn't even live there.

Yet, they were there, still asleep for the moment, but that wasn't to last long. Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Anwen woke with a start, wide awake, before shaking Harry beside her who blinked at her groggily.

"Up!" she screeched. Anwen heard her aunt make her way into the kitchen and what sounded like a frying pan being set up on the stove got her really moving, shaking the whispers of the dream. It had been pleasant for once, even if she couldn't make sense of it; small, colorful lights dancing across a night sky, seeming to play with each other. She shook Harry again as he had shut his eyes again.

"_Harry_!" she hissed softly. As he opened his eyes to scrunch his face at her, she sighed and shoved his glasses non to gently onto his face for him. They were **not** going to be getting up later than was expected of them today. Her ribs were still tender.

As she opened the door a crack, their aunt was already approaching it again.

"Are you both up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly." Harry mumbled out behind her.

"Well, get a move on, I want the demon to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn! Freak, you are to clean the kitchen until it shines. I want everything to be perfect on my Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned behind her and Anwen quickly lowered her gaze to the floor.

"What did you say?" their aunt hissed.

"Nothing, Aunt Petunia." Harry replied as Anwen quickly shook her head.

Dudley's birthday- had Harry forgotten? A quick check confirmed he had. It also confirmed a spider on his hair, as was common. They did live in the cupboard under the stairs after all. It was the spider's home too.

"_Brat_," she hissed reaching out. She gently scooped on the eight-legged creature before placing it on the only low shelf they had. "_How could you forget something as important as his birthday? It's only his favorite day of the year."_

Harry grinned at her impishly. _"Too good of a dream to remember. I swear there was a flying motorcycle in it!"_ he hissed excitedly. They had learned a long time ago that they could hiss a language that the Dursley's didn't seem to understand. And if done softly enough, they couldn't hear it either. Plus, it was the only way she would talk. The Dursley's thought her mute after the incident on her fifth birthday, not that they minded. It wasn't like anyone knew **she** existed.

When they were fully decent and ready to face the day, they headed down the hall into the kitchen. It seemed as if the table had disappeared under the amount of presents under it and Anwen briefly wondered where the Dursley's would even eat.

It did look like Dudley had gotten that new computer he wanted, as well as a second TV and a racing bike; though neither twin had yet to figure out why he wanted a racing bike. Their cousin was fat and very round; he hated exercise of all sorts unless it was punching his smaller cousins. Anwen was his favorite as she wasn't allowed to be in the view of others, except Mrs. Figg and Dudley's friends, so no one ever noticed she was hurt. Harry had also become very good at running. He might not look it, but he was very fast and had learned to use his small frame from an early age.

They were both very small for their age, and the twins often wondered if it was due to them sharing the space under the stairs. They also looked even smaller as they were dwarfed in Dudley's old clothing; the only clothes they were allowed to wear. Anwen always was forced to wear sweater so they wouldn't be reminded of what was attached to her. They both had thin faces, with pitch black hair and bright green eyes. Harry wore round glasses that were held together by a piece of scotch tape from all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing either of them like about their appearance were their matching scars that they had had for as long as they remember. Harry's was small on the forehead, while Anwen's took up most of the left side of her face and cheek. The first time Harry remembered asking his aunt a question had been how they had gotten their scars.

"In the car crash where your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

**Don't asking questions.** That had been the first rule they had learned in the Dursley house.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Anwen turned the bacon, and Harry polished the wooden cabinets.

"Comb your hair!" he barked as a greeting.

About once a week he would shout over the morning newspaper that they needed haircuts. They must've had more haircuts than all the other children in Harry's class combined together, but it made no difference, Harry's hair simply grew that way- all over the place. Anwen's hair was just as determined to be long in matted. Not really messy as Harry's was prone to do, but she was just used to the look of it not being brushed. She remembered in particular one day they were going to send her to school, and her aunt had yanked and pulled mercilessly until every mat was out. Her hair had been sleek, falling to her hips. Then they had washed it in that freezing water, and when her aunt had removed the towel to run a comb again, it was just as dry and matted as before they started. Aunt Petunia had never touched her hair again and banned her from school, sending only Harry.

Anwen was frying the eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Aunt Petunia often called him her sweet angel, but Harry and Anwen only knew him as _fat pig in a wig_. Never in English, mind you, or where the Dursley's could hear, but as the twins made eye contact across the kitchen, they smiled inwardly at the insider joke.

Anwen started to put the plates of food on the table, and Harry hurried over to help as there wasn't much room to do so with all the presents. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Aunt Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. The twins, who saw a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down their small share of the food as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented the same danger, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another **two** presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? **Two** more presents. Is that alright?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work to Anwen, as he seemed to really be struggling to come up with an answer. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty… thirty…"

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh," said Dudley and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon just chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair. Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Anwen and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He war ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in the twin's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror. Anwen was with his thought process for once, but Harry looked hopeful. Every year for Dudley' birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and Anwen were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there, but Anwen had always liked the safety her home provided. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made them look at photographs of all the cats she had ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, glaring at them as if it was their fault Mrs. Figg broke her leg. Anwen sighed softly. She actually liked looking at the pictures and petting her current cats; Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tuffy.

"We could phone Marge," suggested Uncle Vernon.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them."

The Dursley's often talked like this around them, as if they weren't there- or rather, that they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. Or a demon.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend – Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," Aunt Petunia snapped. "And she doesn't know the demon exists."

"You could just leave us here?" Harry put in hopefully.

Aunt Petunia looked as if she had just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"We won't blow up the house," said Harry as Anwen nodded, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "…and leave them in the car…"

"That car's new; they're not sitting in it alone…"

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying- it had been years since he had actually cried- but he knew that if he screwed his face and wailed, his mother would give hi anything he wanted.

"Diny Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I… don't… want… them… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always spoil everything!" he shot them a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Anwen ducked behind Harry at the new arrival, thankfully her slightly smaller frame allowed her to hide behind his baggy clothes. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their back or to the ground with Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursley's car with Piers and Dudley, while Anwen was crouched at his feet on the floorboard in terror. They were on their way to the zoo for the first time. It was the very first time out in public with other people, for Anwen. Their aunt and Uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken them aside.

"I'm warning you," he said, putting his large purple face between the twins's, eye darting between them. "Any funny business, anything at all- and you'll both be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"We're not going to do anything," said Harry and Anwen shook her head earnestly, "honestly…"

But Uncle Vernon did not believe them, no one did.

The problem was, strange things always happened around them and it was no good telling the Dursley's that they didn't make it happen. Especially with Anwen's **special appearances**.

One time Aunt Petunia had been trying to force one of Dudley's old sweaters (brown with orange puff-balls) that was especially ugly over his head. But the harder she pulled, the smaller it got until it would've fit a hand puppet. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished. But they weren't always as lucky.

He's once been caught on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley and his gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise than anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursley's had received an angry letter from the school's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he's tried to do 9as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of their cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed the wind caught him mid-jump.

But Anwen believed differently. She believed magic had helped him, not that she would say as much. The last time she said the word magic was the last day she had spoken English. But if there was no magic, than her existence, her **problem**, did not make any sense at all.

But today, they were both determined that nothing was going to go wrong. I was even worth being with Piers and Dudley to be spending the day outside the neighborhood. And while Anwen was mostly terrified the public would find out her secret, she was excited to see the world. Though of all the places, why did it have to be a zoo?

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain and things: people at work, Harry, the council, Anwen, the bank, and the twins were just to name a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, seeming to remember suddenly. "It was flying."

Anwen pinched him hard in the leg. As if a flying motorcycle wound help this day go any better.

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered. Anwen just leveled him a glare as he glanced at her.

"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."

Anwen could tell by the look on his face he had wished he hadn't said anything. Anwen understood. Even if he mentioned a cartoon or dream, if it was something that did not exist or seemed 'magical' in any way, their aunt and uncle took it to extreme levels to make sure they understood that such things could not be true. They seemed to treat it as if such things could be dangerous.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families, making Anwen very claustrophobic and overwhelmed quickly, but Harry never let go of her hand. She was thankful for the hat her uncle had thrown at her to hide herself in, as well as her ever present baggy sweater, as she kept her eyes on Harry's worn shoes. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry and Anwen what they wanted before they could hurry them away, they bought them cheap lemon ice pops. It wasn't bad to either. To Anwen, it was actually the best thing she had ever tasted as she ate it quickly, watching a gorilla scratch its head looking remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

Anwen hissed quietly her thoughts to her twin and he grinned before responding he had just thought the same thing. They shared a knowing grin before moving on.

It was turning out to be one of the best mornings Anwen had had in a very long time, minus the amount of people surrounding her. Anwen and Harry were careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting them. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbockers glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry and Anwen were allowed to share the first.

Anwen felt that after all that, she should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

The twins moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. Anwen half-heartedly wondered if the snake had died of boredom itself. _"I think it's sad that it's stuck in here."_ She hissed softly to Harry, after making sure their uncle had moved off as well.

Harry nodded to her before freezing. Looking back, the snake's beady eyes were open. Slowly, ever slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry and Anwen.

It winked.

They stared. Harry looked around, as if to see if anyone else had noticed the strange occurrence. They hadn't and no one else was watching but them. Anwen watched her brother look back to the snake before winking back. She giggled.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave them a look that said plainly:

"_I get that all the time._"

Anwen jerked. Harry didn't seem to realize it, but the snake had **talked**. It had **talked**. **In the same language she used to communicate with Harry**.

"_I know,_" Harry murmured through the glass, and Anwen wondered if he even realized he had slipped into their language. "_It must be really annoying_."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"_Where do you come from?_" Anwen asked, giving her brother a hint. She was his eyes widen as he glanced at her from the corner of her eye.

The snake jabbed it's tail at a little sign next to the glass. They both peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"_Was it nice there_?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and they read on : This specimen was bred in the zoo. "_Oh, I see- so you've never been to Brazil_?" Harry asked.

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind them made all three of them jump. "DUDLEY! MRS. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T **BELIEVE** WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of my way, you," he said, punching Anwen in the stomach. Caught by surprise, she fell into Harry and they both crumbled to the concrete floor. What happened next was so fast no one saw how it happened- one second Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

They both sat up and Harry gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past them, Anwen heard the low hissing voice again that was not her brother's said, "_Brazil, here I come… Thanks, amigos_."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as the twins had seen, the snake hadn't done anything but snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you Harry?"

Uncle Vernon had waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting onto Harry and Anwen. He was so angry, he could barely speak. He managed to say, "Go- cupboard-stay- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

The twins lay in their dark cupboard much later, wishing they had some way to tell the time. They couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, they couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for food.

They'd lived with the Dursley's for almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as they could remember, ever since they had been babies and their parents had died in a car crash. They couldn't remember being in the car when their parents died. They both dreamed a strange vision though: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain where each of their scars are. Sometimes they even heard a woman screaming. This, they supposed, was the crash, though they could never figure out why they both saw a green light. Neither of them could remember their parents at all. Their aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course they were forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of the in the house.

When they were younger, they had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take them away, but it had never happened: the Dursleys were their only family. Yet sometimes Harry would tell Anwen of strangers on the street that seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed in all green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people seemed to be that they seemed to vanish the moment Harry tried to get a closer look.

Anwen thought those were better than what she saw. She had tried to tell him once, but at what it was implying, he had shut her down and she never brought it up again. Often when she was working in the back garden, little creatures that she had found no better description of than fairies, often came chattering around her while she worked. Some would grab her hair, her clothes and chatter nonsense. But sometimes, one or two would whisper stories of a world that made her heart ache and wonder if she really was a demon.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright guys, chapter 3. Hope you enjoy, don't hate too hard!

All warnings are in chapter one, please go back and review if unsure.

I apologize as this chapter will also follow the book very closely. I promise it won't stay this way. Just stay with me until chapter 5. Becomes very AU after chapter 5.

As always, I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe (sadly). All of it is owned by J.K. Rowling. Much is quoted from Harry Potter: Sorcerer's Stone: Chapter three

Also, note: _if it is in italics like this, it is parsel-tongue_

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned the twins their longest- ever punishment. By the time they were allowed out of their cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote controlled airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang for either of them, as they visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and the stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in on Dudley's favorite sport: Twin Hunting.

This was why Harry and Anwen spent most of their time out of the house. While Harry saw a ray of hope at the end of the summer holidays, as he would be going off to secondary school. Dudley had been accepted into Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Pier Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Anwen truly wondered if she would survive to the end of his schooling. So as Harry wandered the neighbor hood to wonder about the joy he would have of school without Dudley, she would hide in the back garden, as she had many nooks in the bushed that Dudley's gang could never reach her through.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry and Anwen at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she had broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let the twins watch television and gave them a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she's had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later in life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry and Anwen didn't even dare to hiss to each other, as they were sure their ribs were trying hard enough not to crack at the restrained laughter.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when they went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. They went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

"What's this?" Harry asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

They looked at the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet." Anwen discreetly pinched his arm for that comment. His sass always got them into trouble!

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old thing gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Anwen looked at the murky water doubtfully, and hoped Harry would keep his mouth shut for once. Grabbing his arm, she steered them to the table. She suddenly had an image of Harry wearing the over-sized clothes in her head, looking much like he was wearing an elephant's skin and as she looked at him and saw the dread on his face, knew he was imagining it too. Her lips twitched.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letter on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his newspaper.

"Make **them** get it."

"Get the mail, freak, demon."

"Make Dudley get it," Harry challenged. Anwen froze, already sliding out of her chair as she glared at her brother.

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the smelting stick and Anwen bolted behind him to go get the mail. Four things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wright, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and – a letter for Harry and Anwen each.

They both picked up their relative letters, and Anwen felt her heart give a giant leap. No one, ever, had written to them. Who would? They had no friends, no other relatives, and in the case of Anwen, barely anyone was aware she existed. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there was no mistake:

Ms. A. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry's was just the same, except made out to a Mr. H. Potter. The envelopes were thick and heavy, made of a yellowish parchment, and the addresses were written in emerald-green ink. There were no stamps.

Turning them over, Anwen felt her hand tremble, as she saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke. They slowly went back to the kitchen, still staring at their letters. Harry handed Uncle Vernon the bill and postcard, sat down next to Anwen, and they slowly began opening their yellow envelopes.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bills, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry and Anwen's got something!"

They were at the point of unfolding their letters, which was written on the same heavy parchments as the envelopes, when they were jerked sharply out of their hands by Uncle Vernon.

"That's **ours**!" said Harry, as he tried to snatch them back. Anwen just looked on, her hands still held as if holding the thick parchment as a detachment came over her at the loss of hope.

"Who'd be writing to you two?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letters open and glancing at them. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab a letter to read it, but his father held it high out of reach. Aunt Petunia took one curiously, Anwen's, and read the first line. For a moment ti looked like she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness- Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to forget the twins and Dudley were still in the room, each clutching a letter. Dudley wasn't used to be ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read one of those letters," he said loudly.

"**WE** want to read them," said Harry furiously, as they're **ours**."

"Get out, all of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back in their envelopes.

Neither Harry nor Anwen moved.

"WE WANT OUR LETTERS!" he shouted.

"Let **me** see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon. He kicked Anwen's chair so that she went tumbling to the floor before grabbing both boys by the scruff of their necks and threw them into the hall, tossing Anwen by the arm after them, before slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ears, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. Anwen didn't bother moving from her spot on the floor leaning against the wall, knowing her unusual sharp hearing would allow her to hear from where she sat.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where they sleep? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want-"

Anwen could hear Uncle Vernon pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer… Yes, that's best… we won't do anything…"

"But-"

"I'm not having one of them in the house, Petunia! Much less two! Didn't you swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited the twins in their cupboard.

"Where's our letters?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed in the entryway. "Who's writing us?"

"No one. It was addressed to you two by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned them."

"It was **not** a mistake," said Harry angrily. Anwen tugged on his shirt sleeve to get him to shut up. "They had cupboard on them."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er – yes, Harry, Anwen – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… you're both a bit too big for it now… we think it might be nice if you two moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" said Harry. Anwen gave him an exasperated look, must he question everything?

"Don't ask questions!" snapped their uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. I only took Harry and Anwen one trip upstairs to move everything they owned from the cupboard to this room. Harry sat on the bed while Anwen stayed in the center of the room as they stared around them. Nearly everything was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on a small, working tank Dudley had driven over the next door neighbor's dog; there was a large birdcage, which had held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in room that looked as though they'd never been touched. Anwen went to browse those.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother. "I don't **want** them in there… I **need** that rooms… make them get out…"

Harry sighed before stretching back into the bed. Yesterday they'd have given anything to be up here. Today they'd rather be back in their cupboard with their letters than up here without them.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof (much to Anwen's dismay), and he still didn't have his room back. Anwen was thinking to their last breakfast and wishing that her and Harry had opened their letters out in the hall instead. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to the twins, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's more of them! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive –'"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. Anwen saw her chance and snuck in to grab her letter in Dudley's other hand, on to get grabbed by the ankle and practically sat on in the confusion. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with both letters clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed to the twins. "Dudley – go – just go."

Harry walked round and round in their room, Anwen sitting in the middle cross-legged watching him. Someone knew they had moved out of their cupboard and they seemed to know they hadn't received their first letters. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time, they'd make sure they didn't fail. Harry seemed to have a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly as they both dressed silently. They mustn't wake the Dursleys. They stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

They were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Anwen's heart hammered as they crept across the dark hall toward the front door –

"AAAAAARRRRGH!"

Harry leapt into the air in front of her, and as she looked down, she saw something large and familiar on the floor. Something Harry probably hadn't been able to see at all.

Lights clicked on upstairs and to their horror, Harry and Anwen realized that the thing on the doormat had been their uncle. Their now very angry uncle whom Harry seemed to step on his face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure they didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. As he grabbed Anwen, he made his 'lesson' clear to both of them for the next half an hour, before telling them to go and make a cup of tea. They shuffled off miserably, Anwen more limping, into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see six letters addressed in green ink.

"I want –"Harry began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before their eyes. Anwen gripped Harry's shirt sleeve tightly, reminding him of her condition before he attempted something stupid again that got her hurt more, or worse, Uncle Vernon actually hurting Harry. It was something she couldn't accept so easily.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't **deliver** them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with a piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twenty letters arrived for Harry and Anwen. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few had even been forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed home from work again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the crack around the front and back doors so no one could do out. He hummed "Tiptoe Though the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, thing began to get out of hand. Forty letters the Harry and Anwen had found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each on the tow dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in the food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to **you two** this badly?" Dudley asked the twins in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today –"

Something whizzed down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, fifty or sixty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry and Anwen quickly leapt up into the air to try and catch one –

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry by the arm and Anwen by her hair, before tossing them into the hall. Anwen felt her head hit the wall, but was quickly up again with Harry's help. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letter streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floors.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but puling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're gong away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Anwen was pretty sure she was getting car sick, not used to such things. The trip to the zoo had been far enough, but this was much farther. Aunt Petunia didn't even dare ask where they were going. Every now and the Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction fro a while.

"Shake 'em off… shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in all his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he's never gone so long without blowing up an aliean on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Harry, Anwen, and Dudley shared a room with two twin beds and damp, musty sheets, Harry and Anwen sharing a bed of course. Dudley snored but the twins stayed awake, each sitting on the window sill, with Harry's arms wrapped around her protectively. They stayed that way the whole night, hissing softly to not wake Dudley, watching passing cars and the night stars, wondering…

The ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is any of you Mr. H. Potter? Or Ms. A. Potter? Only I got about a 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up to letters so they could read the green ink addresses:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Ms. A. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Harry made a grab fro the letters but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman started.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully lat that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a **television**."

Monday. This reminded Anwen of something. If it **was** Monday – and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television – then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry and Anwen's eleventh birthday. Of course, their birthdays were never actually fun – last year, the Dursleys had given them a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Not each, one to share. Plus, Anwen always got that **special** present. She desperately hoped that all of this made Uncle Vernon forget their birthdays this year. Rather they all forget then her get **that** again. But still, for her and Harry, it wasn't every day you turned eleven. The first twin number birthday for them.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock a way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable looking shack you could imagine. One thing was certain; there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's so kindly agreed to lend us his boat."

A toothless old man came ambling over to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in that boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the windowed walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and five bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he she cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Anwen privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry and Anwen were left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up together under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

Anwen wished fiercely she could keep them warm with her little secret, or at least stretch out properly, but with Dudley right there, and no warning for when their aunt or uncle may return, she dared not. If they caught her with **that** out, even in these conditions, she didn't want to even think of what they'd do this time.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Neither on them could sleep. Anwen shivered before turning over to curl into Harry's chest, as he shifted to get more comfortable too. She heard his stomach rumble with hunger and heard her own answer the call. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight, at which point Anwen gave up on sleep and just tried to stay warm. Anwen wondered how long it was until midnight, at which point they would be eleven. She hissed out the question to Harry.

"_Ten minutes until midnight_." He hissed back softly.

At her confused look, he chuckled and pointer over her shoulder behind her. There, or Dudley's wrist hanging off the couch, was his watch which did indeed read eleven fifty.

"_I wonder if the letter writer knows of our birthday, too?_" pondered Anwen aloud.

"_Maybe. Doubt they know where we are tonight with this storm though._"

They watched the watch and mover ever slowly closer to midnight. A loud rumble of thunder seemed to shake to shack, before it settled, but still, Dudley snored on without pausing.

"_How do you think he does it? Sleep on as if we aren't a good wave away from being swept away?_" she asked with half seriousness. Harry understood her fear of storms, after she had been locked out of the house during some really bad storms.

"_Maybe he just can't tell when his life is in mortal peril._" They met each other's eye before giving into their soft hissing laughs.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea seemed to slap hard on the rock in that repetitive pattern? And (two minutes ago when they had been laughing) what was that funny crunching noise? Anwen felt her ears twitch before straining at the sound as she silenced Harry completely with a look. She tilted head to listen closer. Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds… Harry raised an eyebrow at her. Twenty… she shook her head, still listening. Ten… nine… - Maybe she was just crazy, imagining things outside the shack – thre… two… one…

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered violently and the twins sat bolt upright, staring at the door. She had been right. There was something, someone, out there. Someone, knocking to come in.

Please review and let me know what you think! Thank you guys for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Alright guys, chapter 4. Hope you enjoy, don't hate too hard!

All warnings are in chapter one, please go back and review if unsure.

I apologize as this chapter will also follow the book very closely. I promise it won't stay this way. Just stay with me until chapter 5. Becomes very AU after chapter 5.

As always, I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe (sadly). All of it is owned by J.K. Rowling. Much is quoted from Harry Potter: Sorcerer's Stone: Chapter four

Also, note: _if it is in italics like this, it is parsel-tongue_

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the canon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands – now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you – I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then –

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of the man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouched, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry and Anwen!" said the giant.

Anwen peaked a little farther from behind Harry and looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile, and felt herself relax some, coming to stand more beside Harry, rather than using him as a human-shield.

"Las' time I saw you two, yous were only babies," said the giant. "Harry, yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got your mum's eyes. An' lil Anwen. Yeh look just like yer mum with black hair and no freckles.

The twins glanced at each other before looking back at the stranger incredulously.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand you leave at once, sir! He said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway – Harry, Anwen," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh two here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry took it from him and Anwen lifted the lid with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with **Happy Birthday Harry an Anwen** on it in green icing.

Anwen looked up at the giant. She heard Harry try to choke out some words, and she gave the giant a smile hoping to show gratitude. Then Harry ruined it blurting "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled as Anwen glared at him. Really? Their possible savior and instead of thanking him for them, he blurts out demands?

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook both of their arms in turns.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back for a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Anwen felt the warmth was over her as though she'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy pancake sausage, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Anwen who immediately turned to share them with Harry. They were both so hungry they had never tasted anything so wonderful, but Harry seemed unable to take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as though he couldn't wait any longer, Harry said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as Anwen considered hitting her brother. This man, had brought them cake, fed them, made them tea, and seemed their best chance getting out of this hell hole and he was worried that he didn't know his background? The man had known their parents!

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts – yeh'll both know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er – no," said Harry as Anwen shook her head in the negative.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. At least her dear brother seemed to be catching on now.

"**Sorry**?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't getting' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut, and Anwen quickly went behind Harry. Harry started it, Harry could fix it. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean to tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these twins – these children! – know nothin' abou' – abou' ANYTHING?"

Anwen thought that was a bit too far. After all, Harry did go to school, and always taught her everything he learned at home. And Harry's marks were never bad.

"I know **some** things," Harry said, thinking the same thing. "I can, you know, do math and stuff." Anwen nodded along with him, since she knew the same things he did.

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About **our** world, I mean. **Your** world. **My **world. **Yer parents' world.**"

"What world?"

Harry looked as if her was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon had gone very pale, whispering something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry and Anwen.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're **famous**. You're both **famous**."

"What? Our – our mom and dad weren't famous, were they?" Harry and Anwen gave each other confused looks. Neither of them knew what the giant was talking about.

"Yeh don' know… yeh don' know…." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing the twins with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what you **are**?" he finally said. Anwen felt a chill of dread in her chest. Did he know? Could he possibly know her secret? But then, what was Harry, since he was including both of them in this. Harry gave her a glance too, and Anwen discreetly covered her ears more with her hair.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

A braver man than Uncle Vernon would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept **what** from me?" Harry said eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry – yer a wizard. An' Anwen – yer a witch."

There was silence inside the hut, only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

Anwen felt true terror at what he was implying, and suddenly felt light-headed. He couldn't mean- that would mean- she really **was**-

"I'm a **what**?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh two be? An' I reckon its abou' time yeh read yer letters."

Anwen stretched out her hand with Harry, hers shaking uncontrollably, to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald letters to Ms. A. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. She slowly pulled out the letter, a second behind Harry.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Questions and fear and hope exploded inside Anwen's brain, and for the first time in six years, she wished could talk in English to ask those questions. Harry, at least, seemed to have similar questions and had no problem asking them.

"What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl – a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl – a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Anwen could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry and Anwen their letters.

Taking them to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in it's beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Anwen noticed Harry's mouth was open and tapped his chin, making it close with a click.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They aren't going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, seemingly interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you two grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard and Witch indeed!"

"You **knew**?" Harry screeched. Anwen put a hand on his shoulder to keep herself upright. Of course they knew. "You **knew** I'm a – a wizard? And Anwen a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "**Knew!** Of course we knew! How could you two not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that – that **school** – and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went on ranting on. It seemed she had wanted to say this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – **abnormal** – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry and Anwen had gone very white and still. Harry seemed to be struggling for his voice, but when he did, he said, "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back into their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry an' Anwen Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in the world knows their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently for them.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble getting' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, Anwen, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh – but someone's gotta – yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh – mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…"

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with – with a person called – nut it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows –"

"Who?"

"Well – I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah – can't spell it. All right – **Voldemort**." Hargird shuddered. "don' make me say it again. Anyway, this – this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too – some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was getting' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches… terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some of us stood up to him – an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before… probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anyhtin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em… maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You two were just a year old. He came ter yer house an' – an –"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad – knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find – anyway…

"You-Know-Who killed 'ed. An' then – an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing – he tried to kill you two, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got those marks on yer faces? They were no ordinary cuts. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh – took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even – but it didn't work on you two, an' that's why yer so famous, Harry, Anwen. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you tow, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age – the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts – an' yous were only babies, an' you both lived."

Something very painful was happening in Anwen's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, she saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than she had ever remembered it before – and she remembered something else for the first time in her life: a high, cold, cruel laugh. Tears welled in her eyes, and as she looked at Harry, who had always had the same dreams as her, saw the pain in his eyes too. She looked away as a single tear fell, before Harry pulled her into his arms.

Hagrid was watching them sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…"

"Loads of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at the hugging twins and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, freaks," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, especially you, demon." He glared at Anwen menacingly. "But as far as your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end –"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley – I'm warning you – one more word…"

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Anwen touched Harry's hand, and when he looked at her, she jerked her head at Hagrid. Surely he had more of her questions? She didn't dare hiss to him here. Thankfully, he got the hint.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry – I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good questions, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you two. Make yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see… he was getting' more an' more powerful – why'd he go?

"Some say he dies. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don't reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak too carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you two finished him, Harry, Anwen. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on – I dunno what it was, no one does – but somthin' about you two stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry and Anwen with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Anwen, instead of feeling please and proud, felt almost sick. All of this was too much. Looking at Harry, she saw doubt in his eyes, and realized, he had never really expected magic. She had always assumed, it was the only thing that made sense, butt Harry had always denied it. Sure enough:

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. We can't be magical. I'm not a wizard."

To Anwen's surprise, instead of getting angry, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked up into her eyes and she smiled at him. He could be so stubborn. So she nodded and saw his eyes widen as he remembered all the times magic had saved him. All the times it had saved her. He matched her smile before turning to Hagrid, who was beaming at them.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard – you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to giving in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they aren't going?" he hissed. "Harry is going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they'll need all sorts of rubbish – spell book and wands and –"

"If they wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop 'em," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's children goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their name's been down ever since they be born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won' be knowin' themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER –" he thundered, "–INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley – there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Anwen saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at the twins under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn' mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm – er – not supposed to do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters ter yeh an' stuff – one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job –"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well – I was at Hogwarts meself but I – er – got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's getting' late and we've got lots to do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get yer books an' that."

He took off hi think black cloak and threw it to Harry.

"You two can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review! Next chapter is the chapter I've been waiting for!


	5. Chapter 5

Alright guys, chapter 5. Hope you enjoy, don't hate too hard!

All warnings are in chapter one, please go back and review if unsure.

This is the chapter! We're gonna take a rollercoaster in a totally different direction!

As always, I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe (sadly). All of it is owned by J.K. Rowling. Some is quoted from Harry Potter: Sorcerer's Stone: Chapter five

Also, note: _if it is in italics like this, it is parsel-tongue_

Anwen woke early the next morning. Sensing the daylight she tensed, feeling Harry stir next to her.

"It was a dream," he said firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards with Anwen. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard with her."

"_If that was a dream, then we have been having the same, very vivid dreams._" She hissed sleepily, opening her eyes.

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. Harry jumped next to her before opening his eyes and meeting her matching pair. She grinned at him cheekily at his started look before sitting up, Hagrid's jacket falling off them. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet next to her and helped pull her up. His excitement had him pull too hard, making her already hurting body ache terribly, but she didn't say anything. He looked too happy to ruin it. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that."

Anwen tried to wave the owl out of the way, drawing the coat into her arms. It snapped its beak fiercely at her, but she refused to relinquish the coat to the bird and got a scratch down her arm for her trouble.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl –"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags… finally, Harry pulled out out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Anwen counted five little bronze ones out of Harry's hand, and the owl held out his leg so Anwen could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, you two, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them, with Anwen watching intently. His face fell from his abundance of happiness.

"Um – Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"We don't have any money – and you heard Uncle Vernon last night… he won't pay for us to go and learn magic."

"Don' worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave you anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed –"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold – an' I wouldn' say no to a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have **banks**?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Anwen watched a piece of sausage drop from Harry's hand, but understood.

"**Goblins**?"

"Yeah – so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anythin' yeh want ter keep safe – 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business" Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually get me ter do important buiness stuff fer him. Fetchin' you – getting' things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry and Anwen followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How'd you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat. Anwen rolled her eyes at him. They just found out they were magical.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

Anwen looked at Hagrid sharply, and looked him over. No way had he flown.

"**Flew?**" Harry met her eyes and she saw the matching thoughts there.

"Yeah – but we'll go back like this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Anwen still trying to figure out **how** he flew. Was it normal?

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving the twins another sideways look. "If I was ter – er – speed up things a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry and Anwen shook her head. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Say, now that I thinks 'bout it, I don' reckon I've heard little Anwen talk," Hagrid commented, looking at Anwen intently. "Is it because yeh shy?"

Anwen shook her head, not meeting Hagrid's eyes. Harry spoke for her though, as he always did.

"No. Not anymore at least. She hasn't said a word of English since we were five," he said, a sad note in his voice and Anwen gave him a warning look.

"Not speak ol' English?" he was staring, she knew it. "How does she go ter school? Or talk ter yer friends?"

"Um, she – Anwen doesn't go to school. But I teach her everything I learn every day in school and she's better than me in most of it." Harry quickly defended.

Anwen leveled him a look and saw him giving her a pleading look, and saw what he wanted to say. She sighed, and nodded her assent, watching the water ripple past.

"She's not really allowed out of the house, really. No one really knows I even **have** a twin sister."

"Not allowed out? Kept like a caged animal, yeh mean," Hagrid growled.

Anwen met Hagrid's eyes and saw that he was angry. Very angry. And it startled her. No one but Harry had ever been angry for her.

"An' how do yeh two talk then?" he whispered.

At Anwen's shrug of the shoulders, Harry decides to tell him. Maybe the language is magical.

"We talk in our own language. But it's weird, it's not one we made up, it's like we already know it. Is there like a magical language that all witches and wizards are just born knowing?" asked Harry, hoping desperately the answer was yes.

Hagrid's face immediately turned wary. "Magical language? Wha- what does it sound like?"

Anwen looked at Hagrid long and hard, before deciding to be brave for once, and trust this man who had gotten them away from her tormentors.

"_It sounds like this_." She hissed, loud enough for them to all hear.

Hagrid went pale behind his scruffy beard, his eye looking even more like beetles. He looked wildly between them before stuttering out, "A-an-an' yeh bo-bo-both be speakin' it?"

"_Yes_." Harry hissed, to make a point.

Hagrid seemed to be thinking very hard before he gave himself a shake.

"I'm going ter tell yeh somethin', but I don' want yeh ter get upset o' offended," he said softly, where Harry had to lean in to hear him. "That language is called parel-tongue, the language of snakes. It be said ter be passed down, somethin' yer born knowin', that it can' be learned. It is also said ter be a Dark language, that only wizards and witches born dark can be speakin' it. But seein' yeh two speakin' it, I'm not so sure abou' all that.

"I wouldn't go around making this popular knowin', at least if yer not ready to do so. The last known wizard to be speakin' parsel-tongue was You-Know-Who."

Anwen and Harry looked at each other sharply, before Anwen felt hot tears roll down her cheeks.

"_I-I really am a demon! I tainted you!_" She sobbed.

"_No, you are not, Anwen Potter. We were both born this way. You did not taint me. We will get through this. We will just have to show everyone it's not a Dark language, that we aren't Dark._"

Hagrid seemed to be bouncing between them before seeming to come to a decision.

"Now I don' know what yeh be sayin', but I know you ain' Dark. No child of Lily and James Potter would be born Dark. They bein' some of the Lightest witch and wizard I be ever knowin'. It'll be alright."

He patted Anwen awkwardly on the back, obviously trying to help. And while he did send the boat rocking, his words did help her calm down again.

"You can hiss ter each other around me an' I won' be judgin' you. Though I do be wonderin' how that'll work at Hogwarts, with you not talkin'."

Anwen looked close tears again before Hagrid hurriedly added in, "But I'm sure Dumbledore can fix it, or get yeh a way ter be getting' yer words across. Great man, Dumbledore. He'll know what to do."

Anwen nodded sharply, refusing to let any of the new tears fall. Harry took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"_We'll get through this. And you'll make friends and be able to communicate to them. I just know it."_

"_Thank you, Harry. But don't ask or tell him about the other things. I don't think I could stand it if he hated me._"

Harry gave her a sad smile before nodding and turning back to the now curious Hagrid, who seemed to have gotten over his shock of the language being spoken around them very quickly.

"Hagrid, earlier you said it would be mad to try and rob Gringotts, why is that?" Harry asked.

"Spells – enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons' gaurdin' the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way – Gringotts is hundreds of miles below London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on sommat."

Anwen sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. And for once, Anwen wondered if she'd be able to ask questions too, not just hope Harry would ask the ones he thought of.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"_There's a Ministry of Magic?_" she asked, and Harry quickly translated for her.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"_But what does a Ministry of Magic do?_"

"Well their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?" asked Harry this time.

"**Why**? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps to the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Anwen couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary thing like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry, Anwen? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, as did Anwen, "did you say there are **dragons** at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd **like** one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid – here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle Money", as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could but their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters, Harry, Anwen?" he asked as he counted stitches.

They both took their parchment envelopes from their pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh two will need."

They both unfolded the second piece of paper they hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets on plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration by Emric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beats and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad. Bonded familiars not held to this rule.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud. Anwen was also very doubtful the normal stores would have any of this.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Neither Harry nor Anwen had been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Anwen immediately latched on to Harry's hand, afraid they'd be separated.

Hagrid was so huge though that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Anwen had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Anwen hadn't know the Dursleys had no sense of humor, she might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told them so far was unbelievable, Anwen couldn't help trusting him. He did get them away from the Dursleys, after all.

"This is it," Hagrid said, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Anwen wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Anwen had the most peculiar feeling that only she, Harry, and Hagrid could see it. Before she could have Harry ask him about it though, Hagrid steered them inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping a great hand on each of Harry and Anwen's shoulders and making their knees almost buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the twins, "is this – can this be –"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartenders, "Harry and Anwen Potter… what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed towards the twins and seized Harry's hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." He turned to Anwen, and before she could react, he had seized her hand as well. "And welcome back to you too, Ms. Potter, most welcome indeed."

Anwen didn't know what to do. Everyone was looking at them. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, the twins found themselves shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. and Ms. Potter, can' believe I'm meeting you two at last."

"So proud, Mr. and Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hands – I'm all a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. and Ms. Potter, just can' tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell of in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"

The twins shook hands again and again, and each one had Anwen sliding more and more behind Harry, until people were reaching around him in search of her hand.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Anwen, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping only Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" asked Harry. Anwen continued to watch warily over Harry's shoulder. She didn't want another soul to touch her today.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-Not that you two n-need it, eh, P-Potters?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked rather terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep the twins to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all, with Anwen refusing to shake anymore hands and just hiding into Harry's back. Thankfully Harry took the hint and whenever a hand tried to reach behind him, he would grab it a shake it again. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, Harry, Anwen."

Dorris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at the twins.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – min you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty nit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject – now, where's me umbrella?"

Anwen didn't care about what happened to the Professor. If she could, she'd hide in Harry's shirt after all the attention.

"_I didn't like that._" She hissed to her brother.

Harry just gave her a confused look. "_The Professor?_"

"_No! The touching and grabbing. I feel sick._" And she did. Thinking again off all the people touching her, her stomach was not happy. Harry paled.

"_Sorry, Anwen, I didn't even think about that. You aren't used to people at all. And that was a lot for even me, and I __**like**__ people._"

She chuckled weakly at Harry, whom she knew was trying to cheer her up.

"Hagrid?"

"Mm?" Hagrid hummed, still searching his many pockets for his umbrella.

"Could you help me keep a crowd like that away from Anwen next time? She's not used to people touching her unless – she just really doesn't like it and now she feels sick."

Hagrid's head shot right up at this and started towards Anwen before stoping himself.

"I'm sorry, Anwen, I didn' think of that. I'll make sure these people keep their hands off yeh. Yeh hide behind me if Harry isn' big enough."

Anwen gave a weak hissing chuckle at that and offered him her best grin she could manage and nodded, though she had no plans of leaving Harry in the streets.

Finally Hagrid found his umbrella and started counting the bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, yeh two."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle, a small hole appeared – it grew wider and wider – a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at their amazement. They stepped through the archway. The twins looked quickly over their shoulders and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' those," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Anwen wished she had about eight more eyes, and in her curiosity, she let go of Harry's shirt and walked beside him holding his hand again instead. He was just as excited as her, whipping his head every direction, as they tried to see everything at once. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen sickles an ounce, they're mad…"

A low soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys the twin's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Anwen heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand –fastest ever –" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Anwen had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was –

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was a head shorter than the twins. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Anwen noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside, and Anwen found herself bowing back, though neither Hagrid nor Harry did the same. Anwen didn't know what it was, but it felt almost needed. Like she had to bow back. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid said.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and Anwen didn't fight it and just bowed back, and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry, and Anwen made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe as well as Ms. Anwen Potter's."

"You have their keys, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and the search of pockets began again.

Anwen looked over to the next counter and saw a goblin was bent over a sheet of parchment and she wondered if she was crazy at the feeling she was getting. Slowly she left go of Harry's hand, who was preoccupied watching all the things Hagrid was removing from his pockets, before walking over to the goblin.

As she stood in front of his counter, she noticed it was just at eye height and wouldn't work at all, but as she thought this, both counter and goblin lowered until the goblin was at eye level with her. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, little Miss, how can I help you?"

She wrung her hands nervously. This was a stupid idea. But she felt that out of anyone in this world she might be able to ask, it might be these creatures that were obviously not human, and she felt pulled to this one in particular. She had known what Hagrid had said, but hearing him say it, and seeing them, were two very different things. So she pointed at his quill and parchment and motioned as if writing.

The other eyebrow rose. "What, girl? Can't speak?"

Anwen met the creature's eyes and shook her heard, before glancing around to see if anyone was around. The only ones who might hear her were Harry and Hagrid and the goblin at the next counter. But then she noticed she couldn't hear them anymore.

"Every counter has a ward that allows only those at that present counter to hear what is being said. Now speak, child, I have much to do today."

No one could hear her? Well, that made this much easier, so she tried.

"_I can speak, but not English,_" she said, hoping the goblin might be able to understand her.

It did get a reaction at least. His eyes widened and he took in her appearance in an assessing manner. "You are Anwen Potter, correct?" his gaze lingered at the scars on her face.

Anwen nodded her head, her face falling as she realized he couldn't understand parsel-tongue.

"And is that the only way you can speak, Ms. Potter?" at her nod of acknowledgment, he pulled out a fresh parchment before handing it and his quill over to her.

The quill was awkward, but she wrote carefully so it could be understood.

'I have a question that I feel like I can only ask you. I've grown up with Muggles and have always thought I wasn't human.'

As the goblin read her words, he nodded and motioned for her to continue.

'Is it possible for someone to be half-human? Some part magical creature?'

"Do you still think yourself to be non-human? Didn't that oaf," he motioned to Hagrid, who had mice running on his coat now, "explain that you are a witch?"

Anwen nodded quickly before writing again.

'He did, but there's more. Things that I have that Harry doesn't, things I've never noticed another human having.'

"And what might that be, Ms. Potter?" The goblin seemed amused at her, but at least he wasn't annoyed.

Taking a deep breath, Anwen hinted at her secrets. Pushing her hair back, she allowed him to see the pointed tips that made her ears longer than Harry's and a more sensitive hearing. Letting her hair fall again, she looked up into the light and knew her eyes would be catching the light and glow a predatory green. Refusing to see his reactions so far, Anwen turned around, and slowly loosened her biggest secret, letting a tip slip up her back collar and pressing against the confines of her shirt before bringing it all back flush against her back and shoulders, so no one would know what she hid under bulky sweater. Turning back, she slowly met the goblin's eyes.

Shock was the first thing she noticed before he quickly ripped a small piece a parchment and writing on it quickly. With a snap of his fingers, the paper was zipping through the air and down a hall.

"Ms. Potter, it seems you may be correct that you are not purely human." He said carefully. Anwen double checked to make sure no one had noticed her odd behavior, but no one seemed to notice a small child.

'Do you know what I am? Am I really a demon?' she wrote quickly, blotches of ink messing up her hurried writing.

The goblin only shook his head. "I have my suspicions, but the demons you are thinking of do not actually exist. Would the glamours you are wearing be hiding more of your non-human appearance?"

'Glamour?'

The goblin sat back and contemplated her, before seeming to come to a decision. "Would you be willing to do an inheritance and bloodline ritual to see what you are?"

'Only if Harry can come as well.' She wrote quickly, glancing at her brother who was just starting to realize his twin was gone.

"Very well, we will most likely want to do the same on him as well, to see if it is him too." Standing, the goblin came around his counter and motioned her to follow him back to Harry and Hagrid who were looking around frantically, before Harry spotted her.

"Anwen! Where did you go?" Harry asked, taking her hand once more and looking her up and down.

"_I went to talk to this goblin. He has a way to see what I am. Some type of rituals. I want to do it, Harry._" Anwen told her twin quickly.

Harry's eyebrows rose considerably. "_And you trust him_?" he hissed.

Anwen nodded. "_I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust him explicitly. Like he wouldn't share my secrets without my permission._"

Harry smiled at her before turning to the goblin that now seemed to argue with Hagrid.

"Wha'? No, they ter stay with me, Dumbledore's orders."

"Dumbledore is not in charge here, as you well know, and Ms. Anwen herself came to ask me about this," said the goblin, craning his neck back to look at Hagrid.

"How did she do that? Anwen don' talk to no one but Harry." Hagrid gave Anwen a very confused and hurt look, as if she had lied.

"She did try to talk, but I'm sure you are aware of what language she spoke in. But she is very much able to write, sir. And it is not unheard of for someone to not be able to talk; she just hasn't learned the spells to make it easier yet."

"Oh, well that still don' change that they are not to leave me side while out."

The goblin gave a large, toothy smile at Hagrid. "Seeing as the rituals she wishes to take is bloodline related, you are forbidden by magic to be there. Only goblins and relatives may be there."

"Well, I still say n –"

"Hagrid," Harry interrupted. Hagrid stopped mid word and looked at Harry, his face red and fists clenched. "We really want to do this. It shouldn't take long, right?"

The goblin's grin seemed to get even bigger. "That is correct, Mr. Potter. In fact, Mr. Hagrid, we should be done by the time you return from your errand for Dumbledore."

Hagrid seemed to deflate as he watched the twins. "Yeh be sure you know what yeh be doin'?"

Anwen nodded and offered him a soft smile.

"All righ', then," Hagrid sighed. "I'll be here when yeh done."

Harry squeezed Anwen's hand before they turned to the goblin.

"This way, Mr. and Ms. Potter. I have a room already being prepared."

Giving one last reassuring look to Hagrid, the twin turned and followed the goblin down the marble hall.

Yaaaaaay! Finally! Basically throw most of the book out from here guys. It's time for lil Anwen to shine! As well as a totally different side of Harry! I can't wait for you guys to get to know them! As always, please review and tell me what you think so far! Thank you guys for reading!


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